


Lingerie

by T_Philips



Series: A Collection of Things [2]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Disaster boyfriends, I'm a slut for Trevor is lingerie, M/M, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8189014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_Philips/pseuds/T_Philips
Summary: Trevor's surprise turns sour before it turns sweet.





	1. Surprise.

"Honey, I'm home!" Trevor yells up the stairs, hands full of shopping bags, forearms indented from the small space allowed between the straps and bag. His voice booms, and his dick twitches in his pants from the combined feeling of anger bubbling in his stomach from the echoing of the empty house and the itchy lace that had latched itself into his pubic hair and had started to pull. "Michael!" He yells, arms forming metaphorical slides for the bags to run down and slap the tile below in the entrance way. His eyebrows smash together as the anger begins to boil over in his stomach, casting a scowl on his scarred face. Giving a furious itch inside his pants along the way, he makes his way up the stairs and into the bedroom, slamming the door open. "You better not fuckin' be sleepin' still, you lazy piece of shit!" He grumbles, pulling his hand from his pants before he manages to give himself a semi and rips the sheets from the lump in the bed, revealing a row of pillows. "Goddammit." He sighs, lace latching back onto his pubes under the waist band of his cargos. 

Fifteen minutes later, after being alone with his anger and irritating panties, he had managed to rub and scratch himself a newly acquired hard on, leaving him with: an empty house, no Michael, lace panties that where pulling on his pubes, and a annoying scratch caused erection. Fuck. Trevor flops down onto to his back on the soft bed, hands digging into comforter with white knuckles fists, snarling and in a pissy mood. It's all Michaels fault. If he would've been home he wouldn't be having to rub- speak of the devil.

Downstairs, the front doors click open and slam closed, followed by long sigh. "T?" Michael calls out, polished loafers clicking against the tile, before coming to a stop in front of the bags by the stairs. 

Trevor snarls and rips himself from the bed and flings himself out of the room and down to the landing on the stairs above the other man. "What!?" He yells, face turning red from holding his breath. 

"What's goin' on? What's wrong?" 

"'What's wrong!?' Ooooh- I'll show you what's wrong!" Trevor exclaims, racing down the stairs towards the other man, visually fuming. "You wanna see!? Huh?"

"Jesus, T! What crawled up your ass and died?" Michael asks, backing away from the other. 

"You- have- no idea." Trevor grumbles, grabbing hold of the others suit jacket collar and pulling him towards the couch. "Now- now-- you are gonna sit here," he stumbles over his words and his accent comes through as his focuses more on his rage than his words. The lace pulls harder on his pubes as he pulls Michael down to sit on the couch in a fast motion. "You're gonna sit, yeah? And you're gonna fucking appreciate the things I do, eh. You suit wearin' motherfucker with the hair you dickhole! Huh?" He breathes into Michaels face. "You don't move, you don't say shit! You hearin' me eh?" 

"Trevor-"

"No! You don't say anything! You sit and shut the fuck up! Or I'll cut your fuckin tongue out and spoon feed you your eyeballs. Understood?" 

Michaels mouth snaps closed, and he nods frantically. 

"Good boy." Trevor purrs, mood making a one eighty switch before he scampers off to the numerous bags in front of the stairs, grabbing them into the kitchen and out of view.


	2. Sour, Sweet, Gone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sweet side of Trevor's little surprise.

Michael isn't sure what he is expecting when he watches Trevor scamper off into the kitchen, giant shopping bags in hands, but it's Trevor and everyday is a surprise when it comes to him. Hell, he couldn't even hold a conversation with the man. His mind couldn't stop running itself in circles as he sits limply on the couch, the house is numbly quiet aside from his breathing and the distant ruffling of clothing. He opens his mouth as if to call out the the other man but quickly shuts it in fear of the consequences Trevor had spoken of earlier. When he looked at him with those yellowing eyes, Michael knew it was a promise and not a threat. The times of fun and games are over now, and Michael didn't need anymore harm done or anger from the man in question who was currently heard ripping through the paper toppings of the frilly shopping bag in the other room. What a day. First: Soloman tells him he's gotta fire a guy and now Trevor's acting a fool over some nonverbal incident from earlier. What a day? What a fuckin' nightmare. 

Michael shifts in his seat, adjusting his wrinkled collar back to a suitable position on top of his collar bone from where it was left after his partner decided to drag him by it. His eyes flicker up from the broken top button of his shirt when he hears Trevor rounding the corner, only to be met by the meth addicts balding head poking around the corner with his characteristic scowl plastered on his face. 

"You better fuckin' appreciate this." The younger criminal grounds out from his sharp teeth, darting back around the corner without another word. "Now- no talkin'." Trevor growls, finally walking around the corner to reveal what he had been doing. 

Earlier that day, Trevor had seen a mannequin displayed on Vinewood Boulevard that was wearing lace topping tights with a girdle to match that were paired with a lace bejeweled strapless brassiere with a ribbon corset back. His women employees would marvel at the way the plastic mannequin wore the lingerie so effortlessly, but he was in a different mood than when he usually slinks around these sort of shops and he continues to stare up into the display. One of the cashiers behind the glass makes eye contact at him, and waves her hand a bit, telling him to come inside. Michael always liked the girls who wore such things while they performed, he thinks as he makes his way through the entrance and into the dim lit store. The cashier makes her way over to him quickly, grabbing his attention almost immediately. He asked her what all the ruckus was about but she doesn't reply, only makes her way further into the store, him right on her heals. 

"These are for men. But if you want help sizing into something a little more- feminine, I'll help. I saw you earlier this week, you probably don't remember me but I was the girl who sold you that floral dress." She says, moving away from him, leaving him surrounded with lace and leather. 

He spent hours of meticulous picking and choosing through the countless racks of lingerie; pulling things he thought his partner in crime would like. He'd glance up to spot the girl across the way, directing other customers to the whips and collars. He tried on multiple outfits and customs, but couldn't decide on just one and ended up buying four; each having its own style and fitting. 

He thanked the girl with a gruff 'thanks' before making his way out and back to his truck. 

Now, here he stands, wearing one of the many outfits he found at the store: a faux leather wired bra trimmed with small spikes, paired with a matching garnet belt hooked to a pair of fish neck stocking. Yes, he got the fish net thong to match the stocking, and yes it did nothing but push his angry semi over to cling to his thigh but it felt just right. His build absolutely slaughters the way it would normally look on a woman, but dammit if it doesn't make him feel just a bit happier to see the absolute shock and red race across Michael's face. Trevor's canine stick out from below his top lip in result of the smirk developing on his face. Finally, Michael was being quiet. 

And, he continues to be for the remainder of the little show Trevor put on for him; changing out of outfits in the kitchen before slandering back out in even more skimpier getups. He couldn't help but drop his jaw every time the other man walked around the corner, blown away every single time at Trevor's physic and confidence as he slowly and quietly slinks his way towards him to give him a twirl and a wink over his shoulder before disappearing again to change. 

Trevor grins at him, finally feeling happy again from his inflating ego and the wordless compliments Michael is spewing his way with his eyes. "Good boy." He whispers, hand going back to pop the clasp of the last bra he had to show. "You wanna treat?" He asks in a soft voice. 

Michael doesn't say anything, just nods frantically.


End file.
